Blink
by Crystal Fwooper Joy
Summary: Post-USJ, Canon-divergent The villains have just been defeated. Students are being attended to, the two Teachers are hastily being treated...except something's not right, and Hizashi's a moment too late in pointing it out. Chaos ensues. (Aizawa is a protective dad trying his best someone help him)
1. Chapter 1

**Trying something nEw**

* * *

Darkness shrouded him. Everything hurt. Shouta groaned, pulling himself out of unconsciousness. There was something urgent. Something dangerous and urgent and making his heart race; something whispering at him to get up and fight, screaming 'danger'. His head felt like it was splitting open, and he couldn't remember anything, excruciating pain squeezing his skull every time he tried to think or recall. His thoughts were a jumbled soup of letters, save a single string of thoughts that repeatedly drifted through his head: _the children_. Pain mixed with rushing adrenaline coursed through his blood, and despite the crushing pain and the immense confusion at his current predicament, Shouta tried to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He needed to gain his bearings, figure out what the hell was going on and why everything just hurt so much.

_The children_. Ah yes. He needed to know if the children were okay. Oh. Oh, _that's_ what he was dying to know. Wait, did that mean they were in danger? His brain was barely supplying enough memories to him, but immediately, a fire of passion flared up within him, a protectiveness he refused to acknowledge driving him. He tried to lift his eyelids up, bracing for light.

He couldn't open his eyes.

Panic slammed into him like a giant wave, eliminating any rational thought he could previously scrape together. Whatever it was that held him back, held him together previously, snapped abruptly, letting all his emotions run loose and rampant within. His lungs were on fire, his limbs tingled with a new kind of pain that jolted his body, over and over.

Darkness, darkness wherever he turned. The world span despite the darkness and he was vaguely aware of the nausea rising in his chest.

Darkness, darkness and cold and pain and horrible, chilling laughter and he was alone and the children, _**his** children_, he had to protect his children-...

He was suddenly aware that he was on his feet, despite the burning pain in every cell of his body he tore at his face, fingers grabbing at the fabric or tape or whatever it was that suffocated his sight and blinded him. His ears pounded with his heartbeat and he couldn't breathe but finally, finally there was light and he could see and his children where were they, he had to protect them.

Fuzzy shapes and colors blurred together and half of it was red. He squinted but couldn't bring them into focus. That was alright, he could see, he could see, and there was light, it wasn't dark. His skin still tingled over, his entire body trembling, but he pushed all the pain away. His children, he needed to protect his children.

A dark shape appeared suddenly in his line of vision. He stumbled backwards in a shock, activating his quirk. He might as well have held a lighter to his eyes and set them on fire. His eyes watered, doing nothing to aid the burning pain, instead blurring his environment further. The initial relief at having freed his eyes and regained his sight dissipated as his brain struggled to piece together the little information it was receiving of its surroundings to form a coherent thought. The lack of reception to the outside world through sight stirred up the fear that'd just begun to settle in the pits of his heart all over again. He was so tired, darkness was invading the corners of his vision again, he couldn't feel or move his arms anymore. Still, he fought against the urge to collapse. His children, they had to be safe, he needed to make sure they were safe.

"...Shouta...please..." he couldn't resist the flinch that racked his body and inflamed his pain, but he looked around desperately, trying to pin the voice. That voice, it was quiet and he'd barely caught it but it was familiar, so familiar, familiar and wrong because, why was it so soft? A name was at the very edge of his grasp, yet he couldn't reach it. Who, who was it? He...knew that voice...No. The children. He needed to find his children.

The hairs on the back of his neck raised, his heart skipped a beat as he was abruptly hit with the awareness that someone was behind him. He whipped around instinctively, kicking out his feet, one after the other consecutively. He landed unsteadily, nearly falling over, but he collected himself, digging his heels deep into the soil to ground himself. His feet had connected hard with something heavy, a sign he'd hit his target. He hoped that deterred whatever threat that was away for some time.

He needed to blink. He really, _really_ needed to blink. But blinking meant letting his guard down, it meant darkness and danger and he still hadn't found his kids yet. He couldn't blink. He couldn't. Not yet, not yet, he couldn't—

Blink.

It was just a millisecond, a fraction of a moment. He knew how much that could change things, knew how dangerous even that tiny sliver of time could be. Almost immediately, he snapped his eyes open again, glaring around him. There was a cool rush of wind from his hair flying up, and something warm and liquid still leaked down his face. It irritated him and he wanted to wipe it away, but he ignored it, focusing instead on that disgustingly sweet smell that invaded his nose. Icky and sickening, he gagged, swallowing down the bile that suddenly rose up his throat. He breathed out his nose hard, trying to force whatever poison that was out his body. He tried to raise a hand to cover his mouth and nose, but his body seemed to no longer respond to his commands.

No, he wouldn't, couldn't draw another breath, even if it meant dying. His children...

He took a step forward. Then another. He was shaking, struggling against the strengthening urge to go under, his limbs felt too heavy, like there were weighted chains dragging him towards the ground. Something touched his shoulder, he shrugged it away violently. Whatever it was tried again, this time he jerked himself away, stumbling. He could barely steady himself this time, tripping over his own two feet and nearly crashing into the ground. A soundless scream as his body shook with pain, he didn't dare let out a sound and inhale that sickly sweet aroma. He pushed himself up with his feet, shooting off the ground quickly to take a defensive stance again, not willing to let himself be vulnerable.

"Aizawa-sensei!" He froze.

Blink.

A bushy blob of green, despite being unable to distinguish the person's features Shouta knew there was no mistaking Midoriya. That problem child...he was somehow always at the heart of the battle, wasn't he? The slightest bit of comfort wiggled its way into his heart, now that he knew at the very least one of his kids were alright. A mistake, he let his guard down and suddenly someone had grabbed a hold of him from behind. He staggered forward under their weight, but he gathered his wits, relying on reflex and instinct. He retaliated, knocking his head back hard.

Blink.

Pain exploded at the back of his eyes, he snapped then open quickly, but he heard the person grunt in pain and loosen their grip. He takes the chance to pull away, nearly breaking free, when someone else wrapped their hand around his shoulder, caught hold of him and held him back, as the other readjusted and tightened their hold. The weight was too much, his knees gave way, and he was pulled to the ground.

He struggled and pulled and fought against it, fingers clawing and scratching, refusing to blink, refusing to breathe. Everything burned with pain, his eyes tearing, his lungs alight. Seconds became a minute. Had he ever gone so long without blinking? His strength was leaving him, his mental screams at his body to move went more and more unheeded, his vision began to black out. He was on the verge of unconsciousness, but still he did not breathe or blink. He shook his head, staring resolutely at the ground. He'd die if it meant his kids would be safe, he resolved, eyes tearing.

"...-breathe." A voice. A voice broke through the harsh static of thoughts in his mind and the rushing of blood.

"...Shouta, breathe." Again. It sliced through the thick haze like an arrow. It was the same voice from earlier, familiar and soft yet out of place, and he still couldn't remember who it was.

"They're...alright, Sho..students...safe...threat's gone...defeated...gone, they're all gone...can breathe now..." It was like trying to tune in to a radio station with poor reception, or catch water with a net; he struggled to focus on the voice and decipher its words, haphazardly strewing in.

"Shouta, please, just...breathe for me!" Like a switch was flicked on, recognition hit him as the voice finally connected with him and matched with his memory, a name pulled up from the depths of his mind. He stilled, a gasp escaping him.

"...'zashi..?"

Blink.

His hair fell.

What little sight he had left clouded over in purple. A sickly sweet smell flooded his senses, before he slipped and fell into darkness, knowing nothing more.

* * *

"Mic..." Nemuri looks up at him as he approaches, smiling sadly and sympathetically.

"I know." It was all he could say. He moves forward to look at Shouta, but Nemuri blocks his view, stopping him. She lays a hand on his shoulder supportively, eyes averting his gaze, hesitating.

"It...might be better for you not to...it's bad, Hizashi." Hizashi struggles to find his words, swallowing thickly.

"...that bad?" He sighs, reaching for his shades, fingers trembling as he pulls them down to look Nemuri in the eye.

"Please." His voice shakes with fear and pain, barely audible, soft and afraid and so so quiet. Nemuri's expression shifts to one of regret and pain herself. She lowers her eyes, stepping aside and waving a hand ahead, waiting as she lets him take the sight in.

Two or three paramedics moved around hastily, and he thinks he sees one of them grabbing at bags of liquid to hook Shouta up to, he isn't sure. One of the paramedics snips the end of a bandage she'd wrapped over Shouta's eyes, before moving to clean the rest of the blood that still covered him; another is strapping him to the stretcher, pulling at the velcro. Suddenly, the world seemed to shift on its axis, time seemed to slow, he couldn't quite process what his eyes were seeing.

Later on, he'd find he couldn't quite remember, or recall the horrifying sight, only the crimson deep shade of red that was blood, the white of bandages and the rush of fear—it was better that way, he didn't want to remember, ever. He stares, an aching, deepening hole in his heart, and he wants to reach out, push the bustling paramedics working on him away and take him into his arms.

Something odd strikes out at him suddenly. Something strange and out of place and glaring, but it doesn't quite click in his mind. He struggles for clarity of thought, turning to Nemuri with his growing conflict, which does not go unnoticed.

"What's wrong?" She asks worriedly, eyes darting between him and the stretcher. He follows her gaze back to Shouta, trying again to pinpoint the source of his worsening unease.

"I...something's..." He doesn't finish his sentence as the realization hits him, but his brain takes an agonizingly long moment to chew the thought and digest it.

"Wait." He finds himself sprinting, then shaking a startled paramedic maybe a bit too hard as the panic inside grows. A roll of bandages drops to the ground, unfurling itself, alongside the bloodied pair of scissors. There they would lay, abandoned and forgotten, throughout the duration of the forthcoming situation, only to be picked up absent-mindedly later by the same paramedic, who had much more troubling thoughts at hand to turn over besides discarded treatment tools.

"Take off the bandages, you have to take off the bandages." He might have felt a bit sorry for her at another time, but now he couldn't find it in himself to care, or the patience to wait for an answer. He shoves her towards Shouta, pointing and gesturing wildly.

"Take them off, quickly!" His voice rises higher and louder, drawing the attention of the others around him, who had paused in their work, while the girl in front of him stares uncertainly at him.

"I...We have to bandage his injuries to stop the bleeding-"

"Is he sedated?"

"I...-"

"Is he?!"

"No, sir, no, he's not..."

"Oh god, then take them off! Stop the bleeding and bandage him, just...anywhere but there! At least not until sedation...Please just, just listen to me and take them off!" He reaches for the bandages himself, but a hand wraps around his wrist firmly. He looks up to meet what must have been the head paramedic's steady gaze with a bewildered glare. Midnight is with him now, agitated but attempting to keep cool anyway.

"Mic, calm down." He's prepared to retort, but the man holding him back gets there first.

"Present Mic, what is the matter here?" They get no further, because at that very moment Shouta woke, and chaos ensues.

* * *

**Hhhhh**


	2. Chapter 2

**still trying something nEw**

* * *

Screaming, the loud thud of someone falling and hitting the ground, his hand viciously smacked away, Hizashi cradles his arm and turns to see Shouta struggling frantically. He'd woken with a fitful start, the strap of his left hand had been yanked apart, and now he was sat up, scratching at the other strap, his own nails digging into the skin of his wrist, drawing blood.

Hizashi couldn't see his eyes or his lips, couldn't hear any screaming from him, but his body was convulsing in a horrendous way, even with his broken limbs. An erratic tremor seemed to shake his body ever so often, which only served to confirm Hizashi's suspicions. A paramedic sat on the ground, backing away, startled and frightened, another running to her aid.

"Midnight, his trigger. He's having a flashback!" His words snap people out of their shock, all at once there's movement and action and noise. Paramedics bustling around, some attempting to hold Shouta down, others scrambling for a syringe, hands shaking as they fill it with sedative. Midnight reaches to tear her costume.

They are too slow. Shouta's violent fit keeps them back, a needle clatters to the ground, theres a cry of pain from somewhere, but Hizashi's occupied with the elbow that just connected with his face. He stumbled back, seeing stars for a moment. He blinked his eyes and shook them away.

It took not longer than a moment, but by the time he'd recovered himself, Shouta had pulled his wrist free of the strap, kicked Midnight aside, and pushed himself off the stretcher. The adrenaline pumping through his veins must have been enough to override the pain of his injuries, allowing him to sprint a distance away before slowing to a hesitant blind stagger, both hands reaching up to grab at the bandages blocking his vision. Hizashi exchanges panicked glances with Midnight, before they jump into action. Paramedics move to intercept Shouta, but Midnight stops them.

"Stay back! It's dangerous. We'll handle this. Present Mic, tell Cementoss to keep the students away." The paramedics hovered anxiously at the corners of his eye when he inhaled deeply and directed his voice upwards in the general direction he had last saw them.

"There's a situation. Do not approach, we'll handle it, proceed with what you were doing, keep the students safe and away." The rumble in the ground was response enough that his message was heard. He turns back to see bloody bandages strewn across the ground, a small trail of blood forming as Shouta continues to stumble away.

"Oh, why are you just so stubborn, Eraser?" Hizashi shouted between breaths exasperatedly, dashing after him. Hizashi can hear him now, the short rapid-fire breaths. His body isn't jolting occasionally anymore, had stopped it's violent convulsions and calmed into a more consistent tremble, the slightest relief to Hizashi. The hyperventilation, however...

"ERA-...ser..." His voice dropped abruptly to a whisper as Shouta's gleaming red eyes turned to him, erasing his quirk. Shouta, still covered in blood, staggers unsteadily, both arms hanging limply at his side. Yet, his hair and capture weapon floated dangerously around him, his gaze threatening all who dared approach. Behind him, Midnight crept closer, painted nails tearing open a hole in the thin fabric around her arm. Hizashi looks away immediately, training his eyes on Shouta, hoping he didn't notice.

"Shouta...please..." his voice was a frail whisper, barely audible. Hizashi knew it was in vain, however. From the shaky gasps to the determined, panicked darting of his eyes, Hizashi knew he was not really here. Shouta probably couldn't hear or see him, and he found himself feeling helpless. The fear, confusion and pain, so uncharacteristic of Shouta, might as well have shattered his heart.

Shouta's flinch at his voice and the desperate searching of his eyes proved him wrong, however, and drove a knife deep into Hizashi's heart. So he'd heard him, but he couldn't see...Despite all of that, Shouta still fought, still did not give in. He remained standing, however shakily, eyes determinedly open.

Midnight was behind him now. Hizashi made the mistake of glancing towards her slightly. Shouta's eyes widened, and Hizashi was reminded of his friend's quick reflexes and sharp senses when he double kicked Midnight away. Ouch.

"Nemuri-"

"Fine, I'm fine, I can't get close enough, and dammit his quirk!" She shouted back, clutching her stomach as she recovered herself, rising to her feet again.

"He'll blink soon, he has too, wait for it and don't miss." Even though Shouta's eyes were no longer on him and his quirk was free for use, Hizashi didn't dare activate it, fearing that he wouldn't be able to control it currently. He didn't want to end up hurting his friends.

Blink.

Hizashi couldn't help a smile when Midnight managed to seize the chance and activate her quirk. It wasn't much, considering the mere tiny opening she got, already Shouta had reactivated his quirk and erased hers, but the small opportunity was enough and there was purple-dust like gas all the same. He witnessed the near instantaneous effect, Shouta stumbling backwards, swaying dangerously. He was shaking, his fingers twitched, and Hizashi watched him struggle with himself, but dammit was Shouta stubborn bastard who didn't know when to give up because he continued forcing himself to step forward anyway.

Hizashi ran forward, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder, but Shouta shrugged it off, moving away persistently. He tried again, more firmly this time, but Shouta just pulled himself away more violently, throwing himself off balance. Hizashi swore his heart nearly stopped when Shouta seemed like he would crash into the ground, but he'd stopped himself in time, using only his feet and whatever strength he had to force himself back up into a defensive stance.

He had to hand it to him, after all the shit he'd been through and how much of a mess he was, it was impressive he was still standing. Worrying and problematic, sure, but still impressive. A horrifying thought occurred to him, then, that for Shouta to not be unconscious yet, despite Midnight's quirk, it could only mean one of two things: A) Shouta just had a damned high amount of resistance or B) Shouta wasn't breathing.

Considering the massive beating he already had, Hizashi had high confidence in Shouta's resilience, but that alone wouldn't help him through the potent effects of Somnumbalist. However, that would mean that Shouta hadn't drawn a breath since Nemuri used her quirk.

Shouta hadn't drawn a breath.

Shouta wasn't breathing.

The realization slammed into him like a punch in the gut, but before he had time to speculate further and voice his concerns, someone charges past him.

"Aizawa-Sensei!" Midoriya all but shouted as he stood in front of him now, directly in Shouta's line of sight, fists clenched, eyes brimming with tears. It was a plea to his teacher, a desperate call for Shouta to see him. From the way Shouta stilled, eyes squinting before widening slightly, Hizashi knew he did, but he couldn't wait.

While Shouta was distracted, he latches tightly onto him from behind. They stumble forward, but he'd underestimated his friend again, and suddenly he felt the wind knocked from his lungs and a bruise forming along his neck. Shouta is slipping from his grasp, slipping away, away...

Nemuri catches him before he can, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him back. Hizashi ignores the throbbing pain in his throat and readjusts his grip, locking his arms around his waist and his fingers together. Their combined weight must have been too much because Shouta's knees gave and they were on the ground now.

Shouta struggles, and Hizashi can't help but think of how similar the whole thing is to trying to catch a wild, spooked cat. On one hand he can feel Shouta's nails piercing into his skin, trying to tear away from his grip, like a cat's claws scratching and lashing out in defense, and he's barely keeping a hold on him, biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying out, can taste the copper of his own blood; on the other hand Hizashi is fully aware now just how disorientated and terrified Shouta is, his heart constricting every passing second Shouta fails to recognize his friends, refrains from breathing, fights him.

"Shouta, please, it's us, stop fighting! You know us, it's Hizashi and Nemuri, it's alright now, please-..." Hizashi's fallen back on what he does best: talk. His voice is hoarse and it hurts and shit he can't cry now. He talks and talks and rambles on but Shouta feels so far away and his words aren't really reaching him and he's breaking down, he really shouldn't be but he is.

"Sho, please, you've got to breathe..you've got to-" There. Shouta stalled for a fraction of a second in his movements, could it be possible...?

"Did you hear me? It's me, Sho, it's me...please, Shouta, breathe." He's listening now, Hizashi is sure of it, the way he'd jumped at his words, Hizashi is sure, he's sure, he has to be sure...He keeps talking.

"They're all alright, Sho. All your students, they're safe. The threat's gone, the villains are defeated, they're gone, they're all gone. You can breathe now." Is he getting through? Shouta's struggling is weakening, slowing, he'd rather think it's because Shouta's listening—or trying to—and not...

He's pleading now, virtually begging, his voice cracks, his ears ring as his quirk activates for a moment.

"Shouta, please, just...breathe for me!" Shouta freezes, and Hizashi nearly falls forward from the sudden lack of resistance. He's stilled completely, Hizashi dares hope...? He hears a gasp.

"...'zashi..?" Shouta's hair is all over him now, obscuring part of his vision. Hizashi holds his breath.

Purple gas envelopes them. Shouta goes limp in his arms. Hizashi's shoulders slump, he exhales in relief, careful not to inhale. He exchanges a glance with Nemuri. It was over.

* * *

**If you'd like to see this continued leave some favs or reviews, I feed off em. Thank you 3**

**I'm just now realizing you can interpret this as both pre-relationship or post-relationship, hehe but for context I wrote this with pre-relationship in mind.**

**Also if y'all would like it, I have chapter drafts for Shinso my boi bonding with his dad Aizawa over childhood trauma :D and erasermic :)) lemme know if ya want to see those happen**

**lol you know what I think I'll make em happen anyway hhaha**


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